Taming the Rake Read Free

Wycombe.”
    “Wycombe?” Claire asked.
    Gina’s eyes narrowed at Cecelia for bringing up such an inappropriate subject in front of her sister. She turned to Claire, answering with as little information as possible. “That’s where the Hellfire Club has its meetings. Amongst other things,” she mumbled vaguely. “We’re not supposed to be aware of the caves at Wycombe.” She turned on Cecelia. “You best not let anyone hear you talking about such things.”
    Cecelia wasn’t listening. “There are so many of the blasted creatures.” Her nose wrinkled as if she’d caught a whiff of something foul. “We might need more recruits. And we shall need some help from the other ladies, of course.”
    Claire’s eyes rounded. “I thought you said—”
    “Trusted friends only.” Cecelia cut her off, scowling at her as if she was ruining the game. “Never mind that for now. First things first, we must have a name.”
    “How about the ruined fools?” Gina suggested. “Or the spinster’s folly?”
    Cecelia shot her a hard glance. She tapped her chin. “I have it! We shall call ourselves The Society for the Hindrance of a Rake’s Progress.”
    Claire giggled at the allusion to Hogarth’s engravings. “Wonderful. But there’s just one thing I don’t understand, who qualifies as a rake?”
    “Lord Coventry for one,” Gina said.
    “Beaufort for another,” Cecelia snarled. “Certainly all the Hellfire members: Lord Percy, Lord Rockingham, Lord Petersham, Lord Ponsonby, Lord Ashley, Mr. Dashwood. But it is not simply enough to call oneself a rake. Rakes are also identified by their conduct.”
    “How so?” Claire asked.
    “Well for one, you’ll never see a rake willingly cross the threshold of Almack’s. And if they do attend a ton function it is always with a new paramour.”
    Claire’s eyes narrowed over her tiny nose. Something was obviously bothering her. “Are they handsome?”
    Cecelia nodded, the grave expression on her face belied her gentle teasing. “Of course.”
    “By definition, a rake must be handsome,” Gina agreed gamely.
    Claire looked skeptical. “Are you sure?”
    “Quite sure,” Cecelia stated emphatically.
    “Quite,” Gina confirmed.
    Claire appeared to be warming up to the idea. “What else?” she asked.
    “Hmm. Rakes are notorious gamblers; they drink bottles and bottles of port, and above all they are vile debauchers of women.”
    Claire grimaced. “That doesn’t sound very promising. No wonder they don’t marry, who’d want them?”
    “Poor dears,” Gina agreed, but the sarcasm was utterly lost on Claire.
    Gina studied her naïve friend, suddenly concerned. In many ways this would be like sending a lamb out to a pack of wolves. “Rakes are very wicked and extremely devious,” she warned. “You must be on your guard at all times. A rake will do his utmost to compromise you without marriage.”
    “Of course, we’ll have to be on the watch for anything untoward.” Cecelia said cheekily.
    Gina threw her a quelling stare. Just because she’d been kissed three times to Gina’s two, Cecelia thought herself the most experienced of the group. “It will do no good to allow the gentleman to sample the milk before he has purchased the cow,” Gina said primly.
    Claire muffled a giggle with the back of her hand.
    “Careful, darling, your country roots are showing,” Cecelia warned. To Claire she added, “One more thing. A rake avoids an unmarried debutante like the plague.”
    “Just so long as it’s easy,” Gina murmured dryly.
    Cecelia raised her teacup high in the air. “To slaying dragons—or should I say, to slaying rakes.”
    Gina gazed at the amber contents of her cup as she raised it to the others. Somehow tea seemed inappropriate for the occasion. “Shouldn’t we be drawing rapiers or something?” Gina asked wryly, but she knew Cecelia was right. A new challenge was just what Gina needed. By the time she was done with him, the poor blighter